Agenda
by cuddyclothes
Summary: A panel convenes to question the people in Gregory House's life. Rated C for Crack. Inspired by the brilliant story "Inquiry" by harpomarx, which you should read first. This story picks up during the questioning of James Wilson. Some characters from the show, some OFCs. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**: This could not have been written if not for House's House of Whining/ and clinic_duty (script transcripts) at Live Journal.

Wilson staggered out of the chamber, sweating. Even the stifling August heat seemed fresh after the greenish fluorescent lights and close air in the chamber. To his amazement, he saw five-year-old Rachel Cuddy sitting on the wooden bench next to a plump red-haired woman outside the chamber. A five-year-old? They were trying for objective testimony from a five-year-old? What sort of kangaroo court was this?

_This was Bizarro World. Next they'd be saying that **Wilson **told all of **House's** secrets. Like how House was accidentally in a porno. And how House slept with a patient. And how loud House's toenail clippings were._

_Meanwhile, House kept quiet about **Wilson** doing unethical things to get a patient into surgery. And provided an alibi while Wilson was assisting a family member to commit suicide by hanging. And didn't tell Chase that Wilson was reading a book to try to connect emotionally with the man Wilson thought was his father._

Foreman was waiting for him in the car.

"All done?" Foreman asked.

"Thank God, yes. Let's go."

The gray Mercedes-Benz pulled smoothly away from the curb.

"How bad was it?"

"I feel like Kafka. They grilled me about everything, I mean _everything_ I ever had to do with House, about House, helping House—you would have thought we were talking about two different people! I tried to keep calm, but I couldn't sleep nights. That's when I thought of all the things I wanted to say to that bunch of fanatics. There was this one woman...she had it out for me. I could hear her sharpening her knives between breaks."

"Damn, I know how you feel. Do you know, those assholes called me the hospital administrator, and not the Dean of Medicine?" Foreman sighed. "I hope Cuddy isn't dragged in there."

"You and me both. They kept interrogating me about my friendship with House as if I was some kind of—of dirtbag who was lucky to have such a saint as my friend. Jesus, don't they know House? I've done the wrong thing sometimes, but all of this shit he's given me—it was as if I only got cancer to ruin House's life! JESUS."

The Mercedes-Benz pulled up in front of a ritzy office building, the kind that had been springing up in Princeton's business district. Foreman received a ticket from the valet. When they entered the lobby, Foreman went to the security desk.

"Dr. Eric Foreman."

The security guard smiled. "Good evening, Dr. Foreman. They're waiting for you." He looked at Wilson. "Your name, sir?"

"Dr. James Wilson." The camera behind the desk snapped a picture of him, and then was printed on a card marked GUEST.

"39th floor, elevator to your left."

Wilson stopped. "This isn't another tribunal, is it?"

Foreman smiled. "It isn't, I promise."

He took Wilson's arm as they stepped into the elevator.

It took Wilson a moment to realize where he was. There was a conference table that had been pushed against the wall. It was done to make room for a large circle of chairs. Sitting in the chairs were Chase, two women he'd never seen before, Domenika, Dr. Nolan, Martha Masters, Taub and Stacy. Everyone wore name badges.

"Welcome to the Inquiry Support Group," said Foreman, sweeping his hand to include the others. "You know Chase, Domenika, Taub, Stacy, Domineka and Dr. Nolan. This is Lydia Bohm and Dr. Helen Martin."

Wilson almost fainted with relief. After the grueling hours with the Spanish Inquisition—er, panel—he had never felt so alone in years.

Foreman put his arm around his friend's shoulder. "Wilson has had it worse than any of us...he testified for _days_."

"Oh God, I'll wager they cut you to ribbons," Chase said.

Wilson sagged into a wooden conference chair. "You have no idea." They'd made it sound like he only got out of bed in the morning to make House miserable. That he and Cuddy were part of a vast conspiracy to rip House into little shreds.

"They gave me shit about buying the condo," Wilson said, not even believing it himself. "As if House had nothing to do with my decision. As if I still wasn't grieving about Amber. As if he wasn't genuinely happy when I bought it. Oh, that I was an ass for not letting House use my tub. That Cuddy was—I don't even know what Cuddy was. It just went on and on and on. Every time I was about to disagree, they changed the subject." Wilson slumped in his chair. "I am done."

"I'm Lydia Bohm," said a plumpish blonde woman sitting next to Chase. "I saw you drive Dr. House up to Mayfield." She looked down, sighed, then looked up, not meeting anyone's eyes. "I lied to that committee. Flat-out lied. About being in love with House, about wanting to leave my husband...I didn't want to come across as a—well, the fact is, he was a lovely man, but it was just amusement. Nothing else. I told him that. And then he showed up at my front door! I never gave him my address. What hospital allows a patient to go wandering off the grounds unescorted? Do you know, I even leant him my car, and he got another patient almost killed? I don't know what I was thinking." She looked at Dr. Nolan. "I'm so sorry. But what on earth were _you _thinking? And what did you tell the panel?"

For such a big man, Dr. Nolan seemed to shrink into himself. "I broke doctor-patient confidentiality."

"But why would you do that?" Wilson asked, astonished. "We _never_ do that! It's one of the first things doctors learn!"

Nolan looked away. "They subpoenaed me. I should have brought my lawyer."

"What did you tell them?" Wilson continued to stare at Nolan.

"I told them about detoxing him from Vicodin, House's troubles with authority, his history of child abuse and the effects it had on him—"

"You're not supposed to tell ANYONE about that!" Stacy broke in. "I ought to know! Greg stole my psychiatric records and used them to manipulate me! God, I was so mad..." her voice trailed off.

"I didn't tell them about his going with me to see my dying father."

"You did WHAT?" Chase gasped.

"I asked him for a diagnosis. He diagnosed that I had no friends. And then he sat there with me and watched my father die."

"But—but you were his psychiatrist! You weren't his friend! You can't treat a patient after you've broken those kind of boundaries!" Chase looked around at the others. "How could you go on treating him?"

"I don't have an answer for that," Nolan said sadly. "The case should have been appointed to another doctor, but he was too interesting a patient."

Stacy broke in. "They asked me leading questions about his personality before and after the infarction. What am I supposed to say? That he was a big jerk beforehand, and an even bigger jerk afterwards? They twisted the facts about his surgery. They kept talking about his pain, his pain, his pain. I was his medical proxy, and my God, I felt like I was having needles stuck in my eyes. They tried to get me to say horrible things about Lisa. Do they even understand what a handful he is? I loved him, he's an amazing man, but one thing he is NOT is a special snowflake." She folded her arms, making an annoyed noise.

Wilson nodded. "The pain—as if I didn't know he was in pain! As if I didn't _care_ that House was in pain! Our entire friendship was me ignoring all of his needs, or not anticipating them, or not caring about them. Yes, I got pissed off, but House is the neediest man on earth!"

"He did the DBS for you," Foreman pointed out. "With Chase's help."

"Well, he seemed all right after that," Chase said defensively. "After his medical leave."

"Yeah, that's one thing I feel crappy about," Wilson said. "They made it sound like a Machiavellian scheme that I took him in after he left Mayfield! And had him sleep on the couch! But I bought House a _bed _and gave up my den. Besides, it was fun living with him. Over the twenty years I've known him, he's always been fun, no matter what else. Except when my bank accounts were frozen, my car impounded, my practice closed, because House was a drug addict who didn't care what the consequences were to me. He gave new meaning to the word self-centered." Wilson paused. "He even admitted to me that he was an addict after he took Cuddy's bet and did that one-week detox."

"As I said to Chase, an addict is an addict is an addict," Foreman pointed. "Gambling, drinking, screwing around, taking wild risks...it's all the same thing. The adrenaline high. Same thing with the puzzles."

Chase looked at Foreman. "Did they give you a lot of shit about when you got sick?"

"You don't want to know. And for what it's worth, I'm still pissed at Cuddy."

"They asked me why he didn't have an assistant!" Chase laughed. "As if it was Cuddy's fault! My God, can you imagine, House coming into his office and finding some poor soul typing away at the computer? He wasn't happy unless he was dumping his workload on Cameron." He made a slight unhappy grimace when he said her name.

"They have it out for you and Cuddy," Taub said to Wilson. "Is Cuddy's name coming up in anyone else's testimony?"

"Yes," came the chorus from the room.

"Yours too, Dr. Wilson," said the elegant black woman seated next to Chase. "I'm Dr. Martin, his first fellow. I enjoyed working with him. And he brought so much money to the hospital—millions of dollars!"

Taub laughed. "Did he tell you that?"

Dr. Martin glared at Taub. "Yes, he did. And he was a brilliant doctor."

Taub grinned. "Dr. Martin, our department lost money every year, except for the occasional directed donation. Only the prestige of House's reputation kept it open. Made the hospital look good."

"I'm afraid I do not agree," Dr. Martin said frostily.

"A temporary CEO tried to close down Diagnostics because it wasn't turning a profit," said Chase. "If Wilson and Cuddy hadn't stood up for House, we wouldn't have had a job."

Taub looked down. "I told them about that insane patient who took everybody hostage. I forgot to tell them that House gave him _back_ the gun! And that he almost got Thirteen killed. Damn, I wish we had time to prep for this stuff."

Dr. Martin turned to Wilson. "Do you remember what torment he went through after Stacy left him?"

"Oh, not that," Stacy groaned.

"Of course I do," Wilson responded. "I picked up the pieces!"

"Do we have to?" Stacy looked at him. "Isn't that bunch of lunatics bad enough?" She looked at Dominika. "Who are you? One of his hookers?"

Dominika drew herself up. "No! I am his wife!"

"You've got to be kidding." Stacy looked at Wilson, who nodded.

"She was one of his hookers originally," said Wilson.

"I made knishes!"

"Sorry, you made knishes." He turned to Dr. Martin. "House staged a wedding to hurt Cuddy after they broke up. He hurt Cuddy, Dominika got her green card. Now she's even a citizen."

"He tried to prevent it," Dominika said. "I think he was starting to like me. I was starting to like me, but he threw all of the letters into the garbage. When I found out, I left. How can you trust a man like that?"

Foreman stood up. "Guys, how about we take a break for some doughnuts and coffee?"

"Fine with me."

"Yeah."

"Is there milk, or just creamer?"

"I'm lactose intolerant."

TO BE CONTINUED.


	2. Chapter 2

First of all, thanks so much for the nice comments! Especially** harpomarx**. I really appreciate it! And once again, thanks to House's House of Whining and clinic_duty on Live Journal.

Shortly after they had all settled back in, there was a knock at the conference room door. A stocky red-haired woman looked in cautiously.

"Is this the Inquiry support group?" she asked.

"WILSON!" Rachel burst in from behind her and threw herself at Wilson. "WILSON!"

"Hi, Rachel." Wilson was delighted to see the little girl. "Hey, somebody has really grown up! How old are you now?"

"Five and three quarters." Her hair was in a ponytail, and she wore jeans and a pretty ruffled top. She hugged him, hard. "How're ya doing?" he said, helping her up into his lap. Rachel buried her head in his shoulder.

"I'm Gloria Baron, I'm a child psychologist," said the woman. "I was called to help Rachel testify."

"I want my mommy." Rachel's voice was muffled.

"Have a seat," said Foreman, pulling over another folding chair. Chase and Taub stared at Gloria.

"She _testified_?" Taub's tone was one of disbelief. "She's only, what five and a half?"

"Five and three quarters," Wilson corrected him.

"My little girls—" Taub continue to stare. "I would _never_ let them in a place like that. Those people will stop at nothing!"

"Rachel and I did play therapy, and I encouraged her to talk about House. But what did I miss? There's some issues she isn't talking about."

The others looked each other meaningfully.

"I don't think we should say anything right now," said Foreman. "Could we have a word in the hall? You folks go on without me."

Gloria followed Foreman out into the corridor.

"What is she holding back?"

"Do you know what House did to Cuddy? Crashing his car into her house?"

Gloria blanched. "Oh, NO! Oh, sweet lord! Excuse my language, but Rachel never said a word. That's why she was so scared of being abandoned by her mother. I suspected she had PTSD, but she wouldn't talk about it. She became silent and shook her head. She said her house had been broken, but that was all she would say. I thought she meant a broken home. We didn't have time enough to work together for this to come out. The poor child! Was she at home when it happened?" Her green eyes were wide.

"No, she was at her grandmother's, but House didn't know that," said Foreman patiently. " Cuddy and House started a relationship—those two should have never gotten together. He twisted himself into knots trying to be the kind of guy she wanted. Then they had a nasty breakup—I don't know the details. All I know is that House went crazy. He'd had muscle removed from his thigh because of an infarction. So he tried an experimental drug to grow the tissue back, but it created tumors in his leg. House tried to cut them out himself in his bathtub. Cuddy drove him to the hospital A few days later, he deliberately drove his car into her house when she was entertaining guests. Wilson was with him, and Wilson's wrist was broken. He wasn't in the car, but I think House almost ran him over."

Gloria was silent for several minutes. Then she murmured, "That is one of the worst things I have ever heard—and I have heard a _lot_. Was House arrested for attempted vehicular manslaughter?"

Foreman shook his head. "He fled the country. But later he turned himself in, and he spent some time in prison." He sighed. "He made it clear he felt no remorse for what he had done."

"So, Rachel comes home to find her home wrecked, her mother devastated, everything fu—excuse me, screwed up—" She paused. "The panel didn't ask us _anything_ about all of that. Even when she said her home was broken. Poor Dr. Cuddy. What a terrible, awful thing to go through. No wonder she left Princeton." Gloria took a deep breath. "We can go back in now."

They walked in to see Taub on the floor inside the circle of chairs, playing with Rachel and her floppy-eared bunny. Rachel looked scared when she saw Gloria.

"Mrs. Baron, you're not gonna make me go to that place again?"

"No, you're never going to have to go back to that place, Rachel," Gloria replied. "You'll be with your Aunt Julia." She looked at Foreman and lowered her voice. "That's where she's staying for the time being. We all thought it would be better if she was away from her mother while Dr. Cuddy was testifying."

"You can say that again," said Chase. "They'll—" He looked at Rachel to make sure she wasn't looking at him. He turned his head back to Gloria and drew his finger across his throat.

"Guys," Foreman said, "We only have the room for two hours. Meet back here on Thursday?"


	3. Chapter 3

The following Thursday, Dominika set up the chairs in the conference while the man from the building catering service laid out coffee, tea, water, and various pastries for the meeting.

"You know, I'm surprised Dr. Cameron isn't here," Foreman mused. "Guess they went light on her."

"I don't know who that is," said Dominika. "There!" The chairs were in an exact circle.

"She was one of the first fellows, along with me and Dr. Chase. Probably got off easy because she didn't commit some major crime, like forgetting to vacuum his office. You didn't have to deal with House professionally. I mean, okay, he's brilliant, but he was still an asshole." Foreman paused, feigning amazement: "You could say that he was a genius whose pushing and taunting helped us all to be better doctors! You could also say the man was an ass who enjoyed ripping apart his employees to the point where any of us could have reported him to Human Resources!"

"_Then why didn't you?"_ Chase entered, doing a pitch-perfect imitation of the members of the panel. "_How could you not realize that the man made racist remarks to you because of the suffering he was in? _Give me an effing break. Hi, guys. Anyone know who's on the chopping block?"

"Cuddy." Foreman looked sad. "They will reduce her to mincemeat."

Wilson walked in. "Considering they almost drove me to commit homicide, I wouldn't be at all surprised."

The same people gathered as before: Taub, Stacy, Dr. Nolan, Lydia and Dr. Helen Martin. Martha Masters hadn't shown, but that was fine because everyone knew she wouldn't be around for long anyway. There was also a handsome, slightly stout man who appeared to be Indian-American.

After greetings (but no hugs, this was not a hugging crowd), everyone settled in their chairs.

"Has anyone heard from Cuddy?" asked Wilson. "I left her a message."

"No." Foreman looked around at the group. "But we have a _very _special guest. This is Dr. Musheer Chakravarti." Quickly Foreman went through the introductions. When it came to their guest, he announced, "Dr. Chakravarti was House's pain specialist."

Dr. Chakravarti nodded his head. "I'm happy to meet all of you."

A gasp went around the room. "Pain specialist?" Wilson managed. "House had a _pain specialist_? Why didn't anyone of us know about this?"

"Dr. House was a private man. I worked with him after his leg operation."

Wilson leaned forward, looking Dr. Chakravarti in the eyes. "I knew House for twenty years. I knew him before and after the infarction. I never, ever heard him mention you."

The doctor averted his eyes. "I told you, Dr. House was a private man."

Chase tapped his finger against his chin. "I've heard of you. You don't work for PPTH."

"I work with the Trenton Medical Center and Wilmington Memorial Hospital."

"I don't get it," Wilson said. "If that's true, where didn't he stay with us?"

"It was important for Dr. House to have a level of privacy about the treatment he was seeking. He did not care to have people he knew or worked with to know about his pain management regime."

"So did you report any of his treatment issues to me, as his primary care physician, or to Dr. Cuddy, his supervisor?"

"No, I did not. Dr. House specifically requested that none of his medical records leave my office. I honored that request."

"So you didn't tell his primary care physician, so I had no knowledge of what drugs he was taking, or what sort of physical therapy he was receiving? You give him the wrong meds, who the hell knows what's gonna happen? " Wilson exclaimed. "And that panel of tyrants is saying WE were unethical?"

Wilson was about to lose it. Foreman stepped in. "When was this?"

"And why didn't I know about you?" Stacy burst out. "I was living with him!"

"By the time I started working with him, you weren't living with him any longer. As I recall, it was six months after the surgery. He had initially attempted to work with a pain management specialist within Princeton-Plainsboro, but found that there were privacy issues connected with that decision. He discovered that people at the hospital who should have had no connection to his case were discussing his treatment, which I must say, was both unethical of them and aggravating to Dr. House."

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Wilson burst out. "Unethical? _Unethical_? The man discussed cases in the elevator! He told a neighbor that I slept with one of my patients!"

"You did?" said Dr. Martin. Wilson looked chagrined.

"Uh, I didn't mean to say that."

"We all knew, Wilson," said Taub. He turned to Dr. Chakravarti. "House enjoyed browbeating all of us about our private lives. It was one of the reasons he was, um, difficult to work with."

"He felt that the PPTH approach to his recovery was unsatisfactory," said Dr. Chakravarti defensively. "For a long while, he was not mobile enough to seek treatment elsewhere. In later years he consulted me about possible superior methods to treat his pain. Methadone was particularly successful."

"_You_ prescribed him the methadone?" Foreman's eyebrows shot up.

"Yes. It had the effect of eliminating his pain entirely. I warned him about the possible side-effects, and that he had to make changes in his lifestyle, such as no drinking."

Wilson shook his head as if to clear it. "Let me get this straight—you prescribed House methadone, again without consulting me? I thought he got it from a dealer!"

"To my surprise, he gave it up, saying it dulled his mind. His mind was his greatest pride, as I am sure you all know."

"Yes," came the chorus.

Dr. Chakravarti smiled. "At first, Dr. House came to me only after he was able to drive himself to our appointments."

"Of course!" Wilson threw up his hands. "Before that, Stacy and I drove him everywhere."

"James, it was the least we could do," said Stacy. "Greg was in agony."

"Dr. House said you made the decision to operate on his leg without his consent," Dr. Chakravarti said to her.

"I was his medical proxy!" She stared at Dr. Chakravarti. "I still feel terrible about my decision...I watched the man I loved going through hell..." Her eyes grew wet. "The idea that you can sit at the bedside of someone you deeply love and watch him die-–that's so noble?" Tears slid down her face. "He had a heart attack and was _dead_ for over a minute! You can judge me as much as you need to. Greg was an incredible doctor, but he didn't know he'd be okay without the surgery." She gave an ironic laugh. "He might have _thought_ he was God, but he would say if God exists, even God makes mistakes." She carefully wiped under each eye with her finger, trying not to smear her makeup.

Foreman folded his arms. "Wait. If you weren't letting his primary care physician know about House's treatment, what insurance company were you billing?"

"I was billing his insurance company," said Dr. Chakravarti. "As I would with any other patient."

"Did you claim to be his primary care physician?"

"Of course not. I'm a pain specialist, not a general practitioner."

"Then how could you bill his insurance company without a referral from Dr. Wilson?" Foreman leaned back in his chair.

Wilson looked at Foreman. "You're right. His health insurance requires that any specialist seen by a patient has to have a referral from his primary care practitioner."

"Dr. House never said anything of that nature to me," said the doctor.

"I think he claimed to have a referral from Dr. Wilson. That's why he never contacted the hospital," said Chase. "Because he was too busy committing insurance fraud."

"I resent that accusation!" Dr. Chakravarti spluttered.

"Probably why you and Stacy were in the dark," Chase continued. "He saw House for a few sessions, but kept billing the insurance company."

"I do not have to stand for these ridiculous accusations," said Dr. Chakravarti. "We worked on an intensive regimen—"

"That neither Stacy nor I knew about," finished Wilson. "House could keep a secret, but not from me, and not for that long. You saw him, but not more than a few times. You knew something would go wrong if he was given medications that interacted badly with each other, or if his 'regimen' caused his injury to worsen, and you knew that I would know immediately. Because I wasn't just his doctor, I was his best friend."

"You paid no attention to the man!"

"I wrote his prescriptions—the ones I _knew_ about! He's the one who was too much of a bullheaded ass to get help after he quit treatment at Princeton-Plainsboro! How do I know that? He broke up my second marriage because I spent more time with him than with my wife!"

"Everyone, let's break for coffee, and maybe try to lower the temperature in here?" said Foreman.

"I'm leaving," said Dr. Chakravarti. "This inquisition is vindictive, wrongheaded and a waste of my time!" He stormed out, slamming the conference room door behind him. There was a long silence.

"Why does that remind me of something?" asked Wilson.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank for the lovely reviews! And again, thanks of House's House of Whining and clinic_duty on LJ. And House MD Screencaps.

To answer one reviewer's question, Rachel Cuddy was referring to her domicile. She'd made new friends in the intervening 21 months.

His den was the closest thing to a man-cave Wilson allowed himself; cozy, solid brown leather furniture, some tasteful sketches on the wall in simple frames. He liked to read in here, because without House, the apartment felt too large and empty.

The cellphone rang. He picked it up.

"Wilson? It's Cuddy." Her voice was ragged.

"Oh, no, you've been with that committee."

"It's—it's been—" her voice broke. "Please, meet me for a drink. Somewhere with a back booth and dim lighting."

"Ordinarily that would sound like a come-on—"

"If George Clooney showed up here naked I wouldn't care."

Cuddy was huddled in the curved corner back booth in the steakhouse, an empty martini glass in front of her.

"Would you care for another, madam?"

"Yes."

"Lisa!" Wilson opened his arms. She stood and practically fell against him. It wasn't drunkenness, it was relief.

"Wilson, you have no idea how good it is to see you again," Cuddy whispered. "This week—it's like a bad dream. A bad dream I can't escape."

She sat down and scooted over to one side. Wilson hung up his coat and sat beside her. Cuddy looked awful. Pale, tired, exhausted. Her usual impeccable grooming had given way to careless hair and no jewelry.

"If it's any consolation, I wanted to kill them all by the time they were finished with me. Are you done?" He signaled the waiter for a martini.

"No." She closed her eyes. "It's going to go on and on and on..."

"That's how they grind you down, Lisa. By the end I was babbling that House was a far better friend to me than I was to him."

She laughed half-heartedly. "I've been in that torture chamber for days. Have you ever been involved with a cult?"

"Of course not." Wilson stared at Cuddy. "You have?"

"I was up for anything when I was in high school. I had a thing with this guy who was a member of—what was it called—EST. Later it became The Forum, I think. They keep asking you the same questions, telling you that you're—" she hesitated, obviously embarrassed. "An asshole. All of these people around me, they had these weird smiles on their faces, asking me over and over what my name was, what was my phone number, what color was my hair. Each time I answered, the leader would tell me I was an asshole and he'd repeat the question. I couldn't stand it. I pushed my way out of the room, even past the men who were at each door to make sure we couldn't leave." She shuddered. "I haven't thought of that in years. But now I keep remembering."

The waiter brought their martinis. Cuddy gulped hers down.

"Slow down, Lisa, you don't want to face that bunch with a hangover."

"What difference does it make? Do you know, they think I created the Diagnostics Department as a sop to keep him from suing the hospital? _That's_ why I hired him?" She rubbed her forehead.

"But he'd been an attending for over three years in infectious diseases."

"I know that! For some reason they don't. How's Stacey doing?"

"She's pretty pissed."

"When I was appointed Dean of Medicine I created the Diagnostics Department. House's genius was being wasted. And gave him tenure so he wouldn't quit on a whim. Even though he'd almost been fired—_again_—by the two Deans of Medicine who worked there before I did."

"Lisa—"

"I could have paid him more. But wasn't $240,000 enough? House cost the hospital a fortune. The hospital lost Vogler's $100 million when we both stood up for House, remember? Right from the beginning he was trouble."

"Don't go there. You kept him there for years when any other hospital administrator would have had House out on his ass long before. But you two played a lot of screwed up games with each other." Wilson rubbed the back of his neck. "It was always a power struggle, wasn't it? Both of you trying to be the alpha wolf."

"I'd be lying if I said no. He pushed and pushed and pushed, and dammit, I pushed back." Cuddy's eyes widened. "The panel brought up our one-night-stand! What business is that of anybody's. You know that's what it was. I told House I had no expectations. So we flirted, so what? They accused me of taunting House with my body."

"Well, you did." Wilson smiled. "You taunted everyone with your body."

"My point exactly! I interacted with hundreds of people a day, including donors, doctors, patients, staff—I've always dressed that way. For one thing, it threw people—men-off. Men don't always expect sexy women to be smart. For another, I work hard to keep this figure and I like to show it off. Oh, wait, that woman at the end thinks it's a felony."

"Vindictive bitch is my pet name for her." Wilson ordered another round of martinis, and two Caesar salads. If they were going to drink this much, they'd better have something in their stomachs. He took a piece of olive bread from the bread basket with the pair of small tongs and put it on her bread plate. "Eat. Somehow I think eating is low on your priority list."

"VB keeps on referring to House as my 'disabled employee'. There are stools and chairs and examining tables in the goddamn clinic! House slept on the tables in the clinic! House _hid_ from me in the clinic!" She gave a bitter laugh, flicking a stray strand of brown hair from her face. "They said most of the lawsuits against him were settled. Somehow that bunch of financial geniuses don't know what 'settle' means. It means paying The Party of The First Part almost enough to wipe out the profits for an entire quarter. GOD, if only _one_ of them had to run a hospital."

"After this is over, a suit for invasion of privacy is probably in order, don't you think? And coercion?"

"Yeah...but somehow I have to live through the next however many days." Cuddy looked down at her salad. "Wilson, what did we do to deserve all of this?"

Wilson sighed, at a loss. "I suppose we'll find out. You know, there's an Inquiry support group twice a week. You might want to stop in. I can drive you there."

Her gaze turned back to him. "Oh, God, yes. Sign me up."


	5. Chapter 5

The next evening, the Inquiry support group met, with some notable exceptions...Dr. Chakravarti and Dr. Nolan. There was still Dominika, Chase, Foreman, Taub, Stacy, and Dr. Helen Martin.

Wilson came in, holding Cuddy's hand. Taub stood up in amazement. "Dr. Cuddy! You're still alive!"

"Define 'alive'," she groaned, sagging into a chair.

"How did you make it here?" asked Foreman

"Wilson gave me a lift. No, no coffee. Nothing for me. I just want to crash at the hotel and forget this ever happened."

Foreman got up and took the chair next to her. "You remember Dr. Martin, don't you? House's first fellow?"

Cuddy nodded. "Yes. Hello, Dr. Martin."

"Good evening, Dr. Cuddy," Helen said frostily.

"I gather you're one of the people who threw me under the bus." Cuddy laughed ironically. "Thanks for that. Thanks for telling them how warm and fuzzy House was with you. I don't know what strange power you had over him, because nobody else saw him hanging out with you, playing music and enjoying each other's company. You knew that the Diagnostics Department has glass walls."

"You were never there because you were ashamed of what you and Ms. Warner did to his leg."

"I was never there because I had a hospital to run. House drove me crazy from day one. He said I gave him everything he wanted because one night he gave me everything I wanted. That panel probably didn't mention it because it might dent their ironclad case that I was out to wreck his life. During a hospital inspection, I said that that I let him run around like a monkey in a banana factory. For one day—_one day_—I begged him to pretend to be a professional doctor. But no. We ended up with a $200,00 fine. Then House told me I should have been fired."

"Was that after he kidnapped the soap star?" asked Chase. He got up and helped himself to a second bear claw. He loved the bear claws.

"No, that was during. That—that bunch of fanatics asked me personal questions—questions about actions that took place behind closed doors—questions they could have _only_ gotten through hospital gossip or-or bugging my apartment and office! It wasn't enough that we were both completely traumatized after the crane accident—" her voice grew louder and more outraged, "I _raped_ him by going to his house afterwards!"

"That's not even the best of it," interrupted Wilson. "That vindictive bitch at the end of the table—she chopped Cuddy apart for the Trenton crane collapse. House badgers her about her engagement to the Lucas in the middle of a disaster area, she gets angry, and he calls her a pathetic narcissist."

"The pot calling the kettle black—sorry, Foreman." Taub smiled. "What can I say? It rubs off."

"Then House said...he said," Cuddy's voice broke. "' A life lesson from a middle-age single mom who's dating a man-child.' All around us is destruction and people dying, and he's giving me shit about my being self-centered?"

"VB tops it by asking Cuddy if she should have had House—"

"My disabled employee. Let's not forget he was disabled. Oh, no, let's not forget he was disabled. If I hear that word one more time..."

"Her disabled employee," Wilson grinned and pretended to duck. "If she should have had House crawling around in the wreckage. House chose to crawl around in that tunnel! He called the shots on the patients' treatment. First he tried to save her leg, then he made the decision to amputate it." Wilson rolled his eyes. "We talked about it after the two of you broke up and he got drunk. The patient dying...that did him in."

"I'm sorry I went back to the hospital that night, Cuddy," said Foreman.

"On my orders," said Cuddy, rubbing her forehead. "I thought House would be better and faster doing triage and diagnosing the accident victims. Then he decides to play hero. Oh my God, everything is mixed up. That vindictive bitch—what did you call her, Wilson?"

"VB."

"VB twists everything I say. There are no right answers. What do they want from me?"

"For you to commit suicide, by the sound of it," observed Taub.

Foreman glared at Taub. "You don't need to say that."

"Yes, I do," retorted Taub. "Look, we've all worked for House, or had a relationship with House or whatever. You all know what an abrasive, self-destructive jerk he is. Foreman, Chase and I got locked up for breaking and entering a patient's home. We did that with every patient. That was illegal. But we had to do it because he was our boss."

"Seems that anything that happened as a result of House being o_ur _boss got a free pass," Chase observed.

"Croissant?" offered Dominika.

Cuddy shook her head, glaring at the other woman. "Oh! Oh! This is a good one! They claimed I was responsible for his breaking a year and a half of sobriety! Sobriety? They term black-out drinking and getting into bar fights sobriety? Did Dr. Nolan do anything about it?"

"Nobody knows," said Wilson. "I think House was seeing him, but if he was, Nolan would have never let House get away with it. That's not what a responsible doctor would do. He'd have House go back into rehab."

"VB accused me of seducing my vulnerable, shattered dis-my employee." Cuddy laughed ruefully. She wasn't going to tell them about House carrying her to the bed, or drawing her that special bath (that turned out to be a disaster), or the two of them spending the next day in blissful idleness when they weren't banging each other's brains out. " House said it couldn't possibly work. He said I'd remember all the horrible things he'd done, and I would try to convince myself that he changed. And he was going to do horrible things again, because he hadn't changed. And from there, it was the inevitable conclusion that our getting together was a mistake. God, if only I'd listened. "

Stacy drew in a long breath. "That's what he said to me when I told him I was ready to leave Mark! I'll never forget it: he said he wasn't going to change. That we'd be happy for a few weeks, few months; and then he'd say something insensitive, or he'd start ignoring me. And at first I would be okay with it, it's Greg being Greg. But I needed someone who could give me what he couldn't. I knew he was right. We'd already gone through it."

"That's why you broke up?" Wilson was incredulous. "I yelled at him for throwing away his chance at happiness, for choosing to be miserable."

"My bad," said Stacy.

"You ended your relationship because he took a pill," said Dominika accusingly.

"Yes, I broke up with him because he got high. But when I thought I had cancer, House kept telling me I didn't! He didn't show up for the biopsy, he refused to entertain the notion that it could be cancer. Then, when we thought it was cancer—he vanished." Cuddy started to cry, one hand ineffectually shielding her face. "He sent Chase to keep me company! In what world is that showing support?"

"Sorry about that, Cuddy, but it was the best he could do," said Chase.

"Not good enough!" Cuddy gave a large sob. "He was there for you!" She turned to Wilson.

Wilson held up his hands in a_ don't hit me _gesture. "It's not like I didn't tell him enough to be by your bedside."

"And then he had to get high," she said bitterly. "To visit me, he had to get high. During that entire ordeal, it kept coming to me over and over: he couldn't be there for me if the going got tough. And he wasn't. He had to have his Vicodin." Tears continued to streak down her face. "It wasn't the drug, it was that he was an addict, and he couldn't face life head-on without drugs. I'd known that for years, why did I think anything would change? We both knew it wouldn't work. House got drunk and said if he had to choose between being a better doctor and being with me, he chose to be with me. And that was before he broke what that VB said was a 'commendable year of sobriety!' What fun-house are these people living in?" As she went on, she grew more animated and angry. "And this really got me-I was sexually harassing him! I didn't know he had depression. I didn't know? For God's sake, he was depressed all of the time! I got the reports from Mayfield—he was still my employee, I was kept abreast of his treatment! Oh, oops, I shouldn't have said 'abreast'. I'm sexually harassing all of you now."

"I like it," said Taub, a dreamy smile on his face. Chase elbowed Taub hard in the ribs. "What?"

"They didn't think it important to go into 'the incident' where House tried to commit VEHICULAR HOMICIDE!" Cuddy shouted, her curly hair falling into he facer. "INCIDENT?"

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," said Foreman. "He tried to kill you, and everybody else in the house!"

"If only my mother had been there. That I would have been okay with."

"Here, have a doughnut." Taub handed her a jelly doughnut. "Eat, it'll make you feel better."

"He broke my wrist," Wilson added, rubbing it. "And then he walked away, saying he felt much better. Incident, my ass. He was already going off the reservation, and he said he knew that. Then, he aims his car at her living room and plows right into her house! House didn't know if Rachel was in there! He didn't think the room was empty, because that's where he saw Cuddy with another man."

"Who I hadn't even gone out with yet." Cuddy smiled, sniffling. Foreman gave her a napkin to wipe her nose. "And then he flees the country. Yeah, that is one pathetic, vulnerable disabled employee."

"He paid you back for the tripwire," Chase said, and ducked the flying doughnut.


	6. Chapter 6

Five Days Later

A/N Some opening dialogue has been borrowed from Inquiry, because I couldn't improve upon it.

Wilson's stomach was clenched as he entered the chamber again. He'd slept about half an hour the night before. Finally he settled into the couch and watched a L&O:SVU marathon. Wilson never wanted to see Richard Belzer again.

The committee sat behind the long table. Vindictive Bitch sat in her usual seat at the end. She looked way too happy.

Sitting in the rows of chairs opposite the committee table were Chase, Foreman, Taub, Dr. Martin, Dominika, Dr. Chakravarti, Dr. Nolan. Also Thirteen; one of the contestants for the fellow position, Henry Dobson (didn't House call him Ridiculously Old Fraud?); Martha Masters, and another man who looked familiar. Who _was_ that? Wilson wracked his brains. He had an image of water, lots of water—Hurricane Katrina! House's old band mate, Whatsisname! Cuddy sat in the back row between to Foreman and Thirteen.

Stacy was in the front row, dressed smartly in a navy pantsuit, holding a number of documents. Wilson slid into the seat next to her. "Well, here it comes," he whispered.

"Don't be so sure," Stacy whispered back.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said the panel chair, tapping the base of his pen against the long table to get their attention. "Thank you for attending this final session. We appreciate the testimony from all of the witnesses who have spoken before us. First, let me tell you we are unanimous in our findings and our determination."

There were gasps of shock and disbelief as the panel recommended one set of punishment after another to Dr. Wilson, and then Dr. Cuddy. "This is ridiculous!" said Chase. Taub shushed him and winked.

The panel chairman finished with, "Given the circumstances, Dr. Cuddy, we have made the following decisions. We recommend that your medical license be permanently revoked, and we have faxed a letter outlining our concerns about past unethical conduct to the board of directors at the Philadelphia Mercy Hospital. We have reported your violation of HIPAA to the AMA Medical Review Board. According to a certified letter we received from them on Friday, you will be fined the maximum under the law, $1.5 million.

""In addition, we have contacted the New Jersey Department of Children and Families, proposing that Dr. House be given visiting privileges to see your adopted daughter, Rachel. They are reviewing the situation regarding regular visitation."

Cuddy stared at the panel, the color drained from her face. Foreman put his arm around her shoulder. "Hang in there," he whispered.

With a confident smile, Stacy stood up. "Excuse me, Mr. Chairman; my name is Stacy Warner. As you know, I am an attorney. I am acting defense counsel for the witnesses."

The panel chair sat back. "Defense counsel? By whose authority?"

"My clients. Doctors Chase, Foreman, Taub, Wilson, and Cuddy. They are entitled to a defense of what was, after all, coerced testimony."

Wilson was shocked. _Boy,_ Stacy had a set of balls! Cuddy was also staring. Chase, Foreman and Taub all looked smug.

"This is most irregular—"

"No, what is most irregular is this inquiry. In most countries, including America, your methods would be considered criminal interrogation. I ask the panel's indulgence for a slightly unorthodox test. After all, Dr. House is famous for his unorthodox methods, there's no reason to say no."

The panel chair nodded, taking off his glasses.

"Rachel, would you come in?"

Rachel Cuddy came in, wearing a yellow dress, clutching her bunny.

Stacy knelt down. "Rachel, honey, could you tell me which of these people are Dr. Wilson?"

"He's Wilson." Rachel pointed at Wilson.

Stacy glanced up at the panel. "Dr. Wilson has been visiting Rachel Cuddy regularly at Lisa Cuddy's home over the past year."

Rachel caught sight of Cuddy. "MOMMY!" she screamed, trying to push past Stacy.

"I'm sorry, honey, but I need to ask you one more question."

"Mommy!"

"Just one, okay?"

Rachel stilled. "'Kay."

"Can you point out Dr. House?"

Rachel looked at the group sitting in the folding chairs, frowning. After a minute, she pointed at Henry Dobson. "House?"

"Thank you, Rachel, go see Mommy." Stacy stood. Rachel ran over to Cuddy and cuddled in her mother's lap.

"I think we have demonstrated the importance of Dr. House in Rachel's life," Stacy said drily. "He was Dr. Cuddy's boyfriend for a few months, and Rachel liked him. That would give any man Cuddy's dated for more than a month visitation privileges. If visitation rights are granted, we will appeal. As you can see, any emotional connection to Dr. House can be easily disproved.

"Next, I call my rebuttal witness, Dylan Crandall."

The lanky man in a worn maroon leather jacket and jeans sat down at the small table in the center of the room. Stacy stood over him. "State your name for the committee, please."

He looked nervous. "Dylan Crandall, m'am." He had a bit of a slow Western drawl.

"How did you know Gregory House, Mr. Crandall?"

Crandall looked at the committee. "Me and the G-Man were in a blues band together, m'am. He played lead guitar. Later, I wrote a book about Jesse Baker, and I adopted his granddaughter Leona when I discovered she was actually my daughter. When she got sick, I tracked down the G-Man."

"Please refer to G-Man as House, please. What was the first thing you did when you saw him?"

"I ran toward him pretending I was going to hug him. He hated that. We used to do that in the band, fake him out. He was a great guitar player, and a really funny, nasty guy. The chicks were into him."

"Did you know him before or after his infarction?"

"Before. _Way _before. We were in our early 20s." Crandall smiled. "He hadn't changed a bit. I told him that. Except the leg thing, and he was wearing more expensive jeans."

"That brings me to my next questions: in your opinion, had Dr. House mellowed?"

Crandall laughed. "Are you shitting me?" He glanced at the panel and quickly said, "I mean, are you kidding me? His default position was that people suck. His old man was such an asshole, I'm not surprised he felt that way."

"What did he treat your daughter for?"

"She was having hallucinations about Katrina. It turned out to be some mold, zygomycosis." He pronounced the word carefully.

Stacy walked around to his other side. "After the successful diagnosis, did you keep in touch with Dr. House?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Crandall leaned his elbows on the table. "The way he treated Leona. He thought she was scamming me—fair enough, he thought everybody was scamming everybody. But he went too far. He broke her finger doing a diagnostic test."

"Excuse me, Mr. Crandall, her finger was broken? Was it an accident?"

"No." Crandall's face darkened. "It was to test a theory. First he stuck with my daughter with needles to make her hallucinate, then—" he stopped. "He _broke Leona's finger_. Didn't turn a hair. House could do some really—lousy stuff. When we were in the band, he didn't think I should be with my girlfriend, so he got her to give him a blow job to prove she wasn't worth it. He couldn't wait to tell me."

"In other words," said Stacy, "he disliked being touched, had a low opinion of people, displayed the same temperament as before the infarction, he seduced your girlfriend, and then, in the name of medicine, he broke your daughter's finger."

"Pretty much."

"No further questions."

Crandall started to rise, but VB spoke up.

"Just a moment, Mr. Crandall. Did you know that Leona was not your biological daughter? That as a kindness, House lied to both of you about the paternity tests?"

"Yes. She told me a few years later. That was a great thing he did. But it doesn't make up for breaking Leona's finger. It's still crooked."

VB shuffled through her notes. "No further questions."


	7. Chapter 7

Dr. Martin, Dominika, Dr. Chakravarti, Dr. Nolan, Thirteen, Henry Dobson and Martha Masters all looked at Chase, Foreman and Taub, the last of whom was grinning. Dylan Crandall had his seat tipped so far back it looked like it might fall over.

"All of this is a waste of time," said the panel chairman.

"If it was, Mr. Chairman, I would not have taken this case _pro bono_." Stacy smoothed the lapel of her navy jacket. The necklace with the tiny cross caught what light there was in the stuffy dark chamber. "In fact, none of us even know your names. No plates, no nametags...why is this inquiry being held anonymously?"

"There are reasons," said the chairman.

"Yeah, right," muttered Foreman.

"Innocent until proven guilty is not an option here, is it?" Stacy calmly picked up a folder. "I have read over the transcripts. It seems that this inquiry has gone by the principle of guilty until proven innocent." She proceeded to amble back and forth in front of the panelists' table. "The burden of proof should be on this panel, considering _only_ actual evidence and testimony that is legally admissible, and lawfully obtained, that the accused is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. If reasonable doubt remains, the accused is to be acquitted." She looked at the woman Wilson called VB. "I'm not even sure what these people are being accused of.

"Oh, wait...Lisa Cuddy seduced Dr. House, a man known for using hookers both at home and in the hospital, who made continual remarks about her body, sabotaged her meetings with important hospital donors and suitors. Dr. Cuddy was in total control of their relationship at all times, as the transcripts of this inquiry would have it. Dr. House, you neglected to mention, kissed her the night she was devastated by losing the first child she had tried to adopt. It was both a lovely gesture, and the beginning of the more intimate stage of their relationship. Initiated by Dr. House.

"It's interesting, the facts you omit. Such as the fact that his head was scanned and cranial MRIs were performed both at the time of the deep brain stimulation and his return from Mayfield. Deep brain stimulation is not a life-threatening technique. Although apparently neither Dr. Wilson nor Dr. House knew that. As neurological experts have shown, for almost a decade DBS has been used successfully as a treatment for Parkinson's Disease, dystonia, depression, and," her mouth quirked ironically, "chronic pain."

"Are you claiming that the DBS, combined with the skull fracture and subdural hematoma had no lasting effects on Dr. House?" demanded VB.

"No, but it is highly unlikely. There have been shown to be few long-term risks unless the metal electrodes move to a more sensitive part of the brain, or the patient is put in an MRI. The DBS _can_ cause hallucinations but that is a short-term complication and as such would not have been an issue more than a year later. Four weeks later, after Dr. House had awakened from his coma, the sutures and electrodes were removed. In that time, the hematoma had resolved. He was then given a cranial MRI. I am submitting into evidence articles and reviews of double-blind studies from the University of Pittsburgh, 2008; the US Department of Health, 2006, the Expert Review of Neurotherapeutics, 2006, and several others.

"Cranial and full-body MRIs were also performed at the time of his self-surgery to make certain that Dr. House had no other tumors in either his body or brain. So. You have your scans, and we have ours." Stacy resumed ambling back and forth before the panel table, head tilted coquettishly. "We shall have your scans tested for authenticity and compared side by side with our scans. Not that I am implying that there is any reason for the difference between the scans. It just seems a bit odd."

"Ms. Warner, sit down!" said the panel chair.

"Thank you, I'm quite comfortable," Stacy replied. "Moving on. Dr. Wilson is accused of—correct me if I'm wrong—being a bad friend. Under coercion, he said that he did not know how Dr. House was faring during Dr. Wilson's bereavement leave from the hospital. When in fact both Dr. Cuddy and Dr. Cameron visited him numerous times, and other fellows made telephone calls to check on him. Are you suggesting that _none_ of his co-workers breathed a word about Dr. House's progress?

"The panel has shown a pattern of browbeating and harassing witnesses, asking leading questions, lying, and refusing to allow the witnesses to defend themselves. When Dr. Cuddy declined to discuss her relationship with Dr. House, she was told she had no choice. She was called "_a business barracuda_—" Stacy paused to consult the papers she held. "Give me a moment. Ah, yes, a quote: _What are you – six? Aren't you a grownup? Don't you have control over your own life? _ Oh, and this- _were you as manipulative and cruel to him on the job as you clearly were in your personal life_? Forgive me, but I sense a lack of impartiality."

The witnesses laughed. Cuddy smiled, Rachel wiggling in her lap. "What's funny, Mommy?"

"The funny lady at the end, sweetie."

"Dr. Cuddy has been accused of seducing a shattered wreck of a man and destroying him during their relationship. This is assuming that a world-famous diagnostician, a man who decided which cases to take, a man who ordered his staff around as if they were interns, had _no_ free will _nor_ the internal strength to make his own choices? Did he or did he not choose to get involved with Dr. Cuddy? Did he or did he not choose to rage at her in a threatening manner when she asked him to talk about their breakup? Did he or did he not choose to drive his car at 80 miles per hour into a room full of people, and," she pointed to Rachel, "a small child? A child whose mother you would force into unemployment and homelessness?"

"The room was empty, we have already determined that," said the chairman.

"Hindsight is 20/20, isn't it? At the time, Dr. House could not have known the room was empty, nor would he have known that Rachel was not in fact playing on the floor. In fact, it's a miracle that no one was hurt by flying glass or other debris."

_You go, Stacy_, thought Wilson. It was almost too bad she and House had broken up.

"The witnesses have been accused of lack of ethics, lack of humanity, lack of knowledge, by a group of individuals who show exactly that. None were informed of their rights in this inquiry, such the right to counsel or the right not to answer self-incriminating questions. Further, the panel has asked questions based on knowledge that may have been obtained illegally, such as wiretapping or bugging homes and offices."

"Ms. Warner, you have no right to make those charges," said VB.

"That's for the _actual_ court to decide. I am reporting Dr. Chakravarti to the DOJ and the FBI for health insurance fraud, billing for services not provided and forging Dr. Wilson's signature signing off on the treatments. Dr. Chakravarti claimed he was Dr. House's pain management specialist, but in fact only saw Dr. House for a few appointments."

"Second, I am reporting Dr. Nolan to the American Psychiatry Association Ethics Committee for violation of patient privacy, not only here, but divulging further information to a large group of nonprofessionals, pertaining to the fact that Dr. House went with Dr. Nolan to visit his dying father. The Ethics Committee will be very interested in _that_. As will the Board of Directors at Mayfield Hospital."

"Ms. Warner, I'm warning you—" said the panel chairman.

"About what, sir?" Stacy stared him down. "I am ever so grateful that you had every word of these sessions recorded. I shall be turning over a set of transcripts to the DOJ and let them decide whether or not this was a legal inquiry and whether or not any of the panel should be fined or punished for illegal or unlawful conduct.

"Finally, my clients James Wilson and Lisa Cuddy are filing suit against each member of this panel, alleging Invasion of Privacy. Under New Jersey state law this includes intrusion-invading his or her home, eavesdropping or prying into personal affairs; public disclosure of private facts; placing the plaintiff in a false light in the public eye, which need not be defamatory, but must be something that would be objectionable to the ordinary reasonable person.

"Both Dr. Cuddy and Dr. Wilson have endured tremendous strain during this inquiry, and both are completely traumatized. Therefore, each plaintiff is suing for $2.5 million for damages. And an additional $25 million dollars for emotional stress. In addition, Drs. Cuddy and Wilson are suing each individual on this panel for defamation of character. Hundreds of slanderous statements have been made during this inquiry, and fortunately, they are all recorded. Along with your names and personal information." She patted the folder of transcripts. "Nothing further."

Stacy sat down next to Wilson, smiling.

The chairman stared at her, staggered. It appeared no one had ever challenged his authority, at least not since the Korean War. The panelists looked at each other, obviously not knowing what to say.

"Thank you, Ms. Warner," he said unsteadily. "This inquiry is adjourned."

"See you in court!" Cuddy said happily, snuggling up to Rachel.

As the panel filed out, the witnesses—most of them—whooped, hollered, and fist-bumped each other. Wilson threw his arms around Cuddy and Rachel. "This calls for a celebration!"

"Drinks on me!" said Foreman, patting Wilson on the back.

"That was _some_ show." Dylan Crandall eyed Stacy and winked.

"Don't even think about it," she said. He gulped.

The happy group left the room, until only Cuddy, holding Rachel's hand, was left. "Come on, sweetie, let's ditch this popsicle stand," she said, remembering a phrase that House used.

She took a last look around, and turned off the light.

THE END..._or is it_?


End file.
